Wicked Ambition (22 page)

‘Just get the vibe he doesn’t like anyone all that much.’

‘Before Puff City he was in and out of jail every couple months,’ supplied Polly.

Robin took a drink. ‘What for?’

‘You name it. Put it this way: it’s kinda ironic he’s plugging an anti-weapons single.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ remembered Belle, ‘how was the charity thing?’

‘OK.’ Robin shrugged.

‘Did you hook up with Leon again?’ Sammy asked.

‘Again? I only saw him that one time I was with you.’

‘And at the premiere.’

She pretended to remember. ‘All right—then, too.’

‘So?’ Polly joined in, with a naughty grin. ‘Did you?’

Robin felt her face burn up. She had been trying not to think about Leon since running out on him in Malibu. He had tried to call her but she’d blanked his attempts. The truth was that night had scared her senseless. Robin had never been so intimate with another person, she didn’t know how
to be, what it meant or what happened next, and the fact they hadn’t
actually been intimate
somehow made it harder. She had felt so safe in Leon’s arms, and that wasn’t something she was comfortable with. She didn’t need someone else to make her safe, she’d spent her life ensuring
she
was that haven, just her; and now…

‘You’re blushing!’ crowed Polly, who thought Leon was to die for. ‘You like him!’

‘I do not.’

‘Bollocks,’ said Sammy. ‘I’ve never seen you like this about a guy. What happened?’

‘Nothing.’ It wasn’t strictly a lie.

‘Nothing my ass,’ muttered Polly.

Robin threw in a decoy. ‘Anyhow Jax was a twat.’

‘That’s no surprise,’ Belle conceded, and the conversation moved on, each girl deciding they would get the juice once the others were out of the way.

They ended up getting drunk and dancing to indie star Nate Reid’s new tune. At one a.m. Brit rap trio East Beatz showed up and their lead Rufio made a beeline for Robin.

‘You wanna get outta here?’ he slurred. Rufio was tall and tattooed with a peaked ROCK OUT cap permanently stapled to his head. He was twenty, promiscuous, and was eternally hitting the papers for some misdemeanour or other.

‘What for?’

‘Dunno,’ he replied unoriginally.

Rufio’s the kind of guy I should be with
, she resolved through the haze,
not Leon
.

No-strings sex might make her forget—it might help her to unwind, to relax, and not to be alone at night when the fear crept in. Being back in London she was constantly
looking over her shoulder, afraid to check the post, even to answer her phone. It was ridiculous.

I can handle guys like Rufio; for starters I know what I’m getting
.

‘I’m done with this place,’ Rufio pronounced as a last-ditch attempt at persuasion, despite only having been there five minutes. ‘Wanna check out a party in Shoreditch?’

As she climbed into the taxi she knew this was where she belonged, back home with her people. Leon didn’t change anything. However she had felt with him, however his touch had seared her and his kiss was still sweet on her lips, there was no point. She hadn’t got room in her life for that kind of relationship: feelings made things complicated, so it was easier not to have them at all. It was easier to be alone. It was easier.

Leon could never get where she’d come from. He could never get that even
she
didn’t know where she’d come from, and that was a problem that could never be solved, not with kisses, not with words, not with anything.

‘Hey.’ Rufio leaned over in the cab and pulled her face towards his, slipping his tongue into her mouth and with it the astringent taste of beer. Numbly she kissed him back.

A week later she attended a fashion gala in Soho. Robin was front row as the models strutted the catwalk, among them Lori Garcia, the hot Spanish beauty who had just wed French mogul Jean-Baptiste Moreau. Conversation was stilted as she found herself wedged between a miserable, matchstick-thin TV presenter and the surly daughter of a hard-man actor.

Rufio’s texts provided light relief.

Hook up later babes
, one proposed. Rufio didn’t punctuate his messages and often Robin had to read them several times before they made any sense: she guessed this one was a question rather than a statement. The omission was less problematic than the fact he had addressed her as ‘babes’. She would have to put a stop to that.

Thankfully Turquoise da Luca was at the after party, on a break from shooting her movie in Greece. Robin was intrigued by
True Match
and at how Cosmo Angel would deliver as a screenwriter. Coverage had been rife and of course the media was trying to link the stars romantically, despite Cosmo being married, and by all accounts devoted to his wife, Ava.

Turquoise looked sensational. Last time Robin had seen her had been
Friday Later
, when she’d opted out of their night, and now she seemed a different woman, her jet hair secured in a chic plait and her floor-skimming bronze gown offsetting her caramel skin. But it was more than that: Turquoise had a blaze in her eyes that had been missing in LA. Perhaps shooting with Cosmo on a deserted island paradise was agreeing with her. How couldn’t it?

‘What’s it like being a Hollywood star?’ Robin teased as they hung out on the roof terrace of Covent Garden’s Attic House. London was chilly and the pagoda heat lamps were ramped up to the max, casting a burned glow over the VIP guests.

‘Ah, you know, I’m getting used to it.’ Turquoise smiled.

‘You look so well,’ said Robin. ‘I was worried about you before. Are you better?’

‘Much.’ Turquoise’s eyes glittered in the night. ‘That was
a crazy time, you must get that—everyone wants a piece of you and there’s nothing left for yourself.’

Robin sensed that however hectic her schedule appeared it would be nothing compared with Turquoise’s diary, which must be perpetually off the wall.

‘Sort of,’ she answered.

‘It’s good to try something new,’ said Turquoise. ‘Reinvigorating. Stepping into Cosmo’s world is quite a revelation…I’ve learned so much about him.’

They were joined by a bunch of athletes who had recently been awarded MBEs. It wasn’t long before talk turned to the Leon/Jax track rivalry.

‘Jax needs to step down,’ said Turquoise when the others had moved on.

‘Oh?’ Robin hadn’t heard her speak against anyone before.

‘He thinks he’s invincible. The reality? Nobody is. No matter how big they become.’

‘Do you know Jax?’

Turquoise waved her hand, diamonds flashing in the shadows. She lowered her tone.

‘We spent the night together once.’

‘You’re not serious!’
Jax and Turquoise?
But Jax was a complete chump. Never mind being in a different league—Turquoise was on a different
planet
.

‘It was a long time ago,’ she said, with a secret smirk. ‘After his first win out East.’

‘Did you date?’

Turquoise grinned. ‘God, no! Just one of those things.’

Robin tried to think where her companion would have
been at that point. Turquoise was only a few years older than her, so if it was Jax’s first win she must have been young…

‘Whenever we see each other now he avoids me like the plague,’ she said.

‘Why?’

Turquoise came close, a reckless glint in her eye. ‘Promise not to tell?’

‘Sure.’

‘Jax got…
experimental
. Let’s just say that he and a certain Chinese gymnast got pretty cosy…and I was lucky enough to be given a front-row seat.’

‘Who was she?’

‘She?’ Turquoise grinned mischievously. There was a long pause while Robin figured out the omission. She put a hand over her mouth.

‘You’re shitting me!’

‘There’s more,’ said Turquoise. ‘Jax was so feral over his win—you’ve met him, you know what he’s like; I mean he totally lost control, it was like he was high on his own glory or something—and that was when…Well, when the relay baton came out.’

‘Jax gave it with
a relay baton
?’ Robin hooted with mirth.

‘Shh!’ But Turquoise was laughing, too. ‘Damn right he did.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Trust me, he was loving
every
second.’

‘This is too good,’ Robin spluttered, shaking her head. ‘It can’t be true, it can’t.’

‘Why not?’ Turquoise challenged. ‘These guys are like machines after they race. All that time without sex and all those gorgeous bodies right there in the Village. Go figure.’

Thinking of Leon in that sex-fuelled post-Games scenario,
Robin experienced a pang. Of what? Jealousy? How could she be jealous when they were nothing to each other?

‘The guy thinks he’s indestructible,’ concluded Turquoise. ‘If he wants to keep shit like that under wraps he needs to go about treating people a little better. Especially women.’

Before Robin could quiz her further, Turquoise’s PA intervened and drew her away. As Turquoise worked the practised charm that was second nature after years in the industry, Robin decided that in that brief exchange she had gleaned more about the singer than any number of magazine features could ever hope to reveal. Instead of the nerve-addled creature she had encountered earlier this year, now she was unafraid, daring, undaunted by anyone.

She was fearless, and a fearless woman was a dangerous thing indeed.

28

A
t the Las Vegas Parthenon, fans were out in force for the hottest New Year’s ticket in town. The titan hotel was home to the biggest auditorium in Sin City and tonight opened its doors to some of the most bankable names in America. It was the perfect set for Kristin’s comeback.

Sponsored by Vegas legend Frank Bernstein and hotel magnate heartthrob Robert St Louis, the lavish production came as no surprise. Neither man did things by halves. The stage was huge, in the heyday of Vegas entertainment boasting all the big names: Siegfried & Roy; David Copperfield; the powerhouse divas of the eighties and nineties, Cher and Celine and Bette. Nowadays the impressive space saluted movie premieres and fashion sprees—and, tonight, hands-down the best New Year’s gig ever to grace the Strip.

Backstage was a sea of famous faces. The star-studded cast was second to none, showcasing a host of established names as well as exciting new talent. Among them Kristin spotted Joey Lombardi waiting in the wings as a technician
secured his mic. Abruptly she turned, unwilling to encounter any of the other boys. The thought of seeing Scotty turned her stomach. She still could not eliminate the vision she had last been presented with…

But Joey was quick. ‘Hey, Kristin!’ He caught up with her, his black hair longer than when she’d seen him at Bunny’s birthday—what a lifetime ago that seemed.

‘Hey.’ Kristin saw a new woman reflected in his expression. Gone was her tumbling river of blonde and in its place a sharp, choppily cut bob. She had thrown out the wraithlike dresses and replaced them with pants and vests, showing off her enviable figure and for once faithful to her age. She’d embraced a new look and with it a new spirit: when she’d declared she was moving out of The White House and getting her own place, Ramona’s face had sunk as fast as her Botox would allow; when she’d announced her split from Scotty was down to ‘an irreconcilable matter’, the press had gone mental for the reasons why; when she’d declined to comment on her prolonged absence, her benefactors were stricken. What had happened to their precious, malleable little girl? She’d grown up…because she’d had to.

‘It’s been a while.’ Joey grinned warmly. His eyes were kind, cocoa-brown and bordered by thick, dark lashes, and for an instant Kristin’s heart softened, before she reminded herself that they could all be in on the sordid truth. Who knew if Fenton had enjoyed his wicked way with more than one of Fraternity? Who knew if Joey had been made to get to his knees? Who knew if it hadn’t been part of the goddamn
audition process
?

She wanted to blurt it. She wanted to ask him. She wanted to know.

At the same time she didn’t—because knowledge was irrevocable.

‘I can’t miss my cue,’ she said, making to leave. Starlets and their entourage jostled in their factions and she was terrified of laying eyes on Scotty.

‘Can I take you out?’ Joey asked, immediately abashed as though the question had emerged without his consent. ‘I mean, after this?’

‘Sorry, I’ve got plans.’ Bunny was performing in the second round of the Mini Miss Marvellous tournament at the Mirage and she had promised to be there.

There was a lot to make up for. Christmas had been a sober obligation, with Bunny’s rehearsal load reaching new summits and Ramona’s ambitions more outrageous than ever. Kristin felt awful for having abandoned Bunny to their mother’s dominion. Always she’d promised to stay close until Bunny came of age, but she’d had no choice: one more day answering to Ramona and she would have killed somebody.

She vowed to compensate by doing all she could for her sister. Recently Bunny had been uncharacteristically quiet, several times imploring her to get back with Scotty because ‘whatever happened couldn’t be that bad,’ but, while Kristin knew Bunny adored her surrogate big brother, having her defend him was a step too far—especially when Kristin was keeping the true nature of his desires to herself in order to protect hearts like Bunny’s the world over. Imagine if they found out! It wouldn’t just shatter their fantasies of one day being the coveted Mrs Valentine; it would explode all the stupid myths about everlasting, unconditional love in a single, obliterating swoop.

Kristin had always prided herself on valuing her fans, and this was when it mattered. Her fans were kids—Fraternity’s, too, which made it all the darker—and if fiction was what she and Scotty were selling, then fiction it should be. It didn’t mean she had to believe it.

‘Oh,’ said Joey. ‘Right. Maybe I could come with you?’

‘It’s not your thing.’

‘It might be?’ he tried, hopefully.

Fleetingly Kristin wondered if he had been employed by Scotty to win her back—not for Scotty, of course, but for his image. Or to appease Fenton, who must have undergone some kind of a coronary. Come to think of it she hadn’t seen Fenton anywhere for weeks.